


from the ashes

by Friendly_Gayberhood_SpiderMan (orphan_account)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Gen, Misgendering, Trans Character, Trans Marius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Friendly_Gayberhood_SpiderMan
Summary: In another life, Marius thinks, he could have been a student as well. His tutors had always said as much, throwing around words like smart and intuitive, quick and dedicated.If only girls were admitted into the universities, one of the more eccentric ones had said, years ago,You would shine there.If only, Marius had thought but not replied, unsure or scared or both,I had not been born a girl at all.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	from the ashes

After four hours the cab driver starts to get suspicious.

“Mademoiselle,” he starts, glancing over at Marius, who tries not to visibly bristle at the title.

“Stop here,” Marius interrupts, breaking somewhere around five rules of etiquette; he can’t bring himself to care very much. “My brother is waiting for me,” he adds when the driver casts a doubtful look at him.

The driver nods and makes a sharp movement, bringing the cabriolet to a stop. Marius looks around, taking note of a few buildings that look vaguely familiar. He thinks they may have passed this area around the two hour mark. Marius exits the cab, politely declining the driver’s attempts to help with his hand-bag, and pulls out a handful of coins. He counts them out, handing what is probably more than he can afford to spend to the cab driver, who accepts the money with a smile before starting off again.

Once the cab has disappeared around a corner, Marius turns around, scanning the area to determine what his next move should be. His eyes catch on a small café outside the street which a worn sign-post in the front announces as the Musain. He walks towards it, pausing for a second at the door. For the first time in his life he regrets never having taken an interest in contemporary fashions; his dress, quite literally the product of another century, will no doubt single him out in any society that isn’t comprised of his grandfather’s acquaintances.

Well, it’s not like there’s much that can be done about it. Marius takes a deep breath and pushes open the door, entering the café before any additional doubts can appear in his mind. His senses are immediately assaulted with a barrage of light and noise and motion that takes more than a few seconds to adjust to. He cautiously makes his way to the back and sits down at an empty table. To his relief, nobody appears to have taken notice of his entrance, engaged in their own endeavours as they are.

Marius leans back in his chair and thinks. He has nowhere to go, no one he can rely on, not a sou more than what he currently has on him. However, despite this state of affairs, he cannot find it in himself to regret his actions. If anything, Marius only wishes he’d said more, revealed more. He had tried, had opened his mouth and felt every emotion he’d kept down for so long welling up in him, a tide ready to crash onto the shore, a fire ready to scorch and sear and burn burn burn. But the words had stuck in his mouth, numbed his tongue, sealed his teeth together, and he’d been unable to get them out in time.

The table next to Marius explodes into laughter and he comes back to himself. He can make out snippets of conversation between the chortles, mentions of books and exams and cruel professors woven in between barely comprehensible puns that are only slightly better than what Marius was accustomed to hearing at Madame de T’s salon. Students then, and law students at that, judging by the way they sprinkle mentions of contracts and courtroom procedures into their discussion, managing to be both critical and complimentary of their field in the same breath.

In another life, Marius thinks, he could have been one of them. His tutors had always said as much, throwing around words like smart and intuitive, quick and dedicated. _If only girls were admitted into the universities_ , one of the more eccentric ones had said, years ago, _You would shine there_.

_If only_ , Marius had thought but not replied, unsure or scared or both, _I had not been born a girl at all_.

There was no negative emotion that had driven him to this conclusion. No despair at his lack of prospects. No anger at the wrongness of his situation. No jealousy or resentment or self-loathing. Rather, something much deeper had guided him. A knowledge coiled up at the base of his heart, singing in his veins, inextricable from his bone marrow. _I am_ , it had whispered, or maybe screamed, _This is who I am. This is who you are. Listen to me_. And Marius had had no choice but to obey.

“Hello,” a voice startles Marius completely out of his reverie. He looks up to see a man sitting across from him, half-leaning on the table, a smile on his face. Marius thinks he may have been part of the group of students still laughing and talking at the next table.

“Hello,” Marius responds. The man’s smile widens. It’s a nice smile, Marius thinks. Genuine.

“I’m Courfeyrac,” the man says.

“Courfeyrac,” Marius repeats, “It’s nice to meet you.” He doesn’t offer his own name, knowing his bag, right in Courfeyrac’s line of sight, has the one he was given at birth prominently displayed, sewn into the fabric with large, looping letters.

Courfeyrac adjusts himself in his chair, shifting into a position that looks vastly less comfortable than his previous one. “Pardon my impromptu introduction,” he begins, “But you appear rather lost.”

_That_ , Marius thinks, _is quite the understatement_. “I feel lost.” He laughs, there’s no humor in it.

Courfeyrac makes a gesture, something approximating _go on_ ; it’s all the encouragement Marius needs. Within a second he’s talking, telling the entire story to Courfeyrac, who just watches with silent support as Marius discusses the situation with his father and his grandfather; the betrayal the former underwent at the hands of both the latter and Marius himself, the confrontation that led to Marius finding himself in this café.

“And now I am afraid I have nowhere to go.” Marius sighs. “I just know I cannot return to my grandfather’s house. No matter what.”

“A tough situation, to be sure.” Courfeyrac hums. “Especially for a young woman.”

Something in Marius snaps; he has spent so long surrounded by lies, he can’t do it anymore. “I’m a man!” Luckily, his yell is swallowed up in the noise of the café before any of the neighboring tables can hear it, but not before it reaches Courfeyrac’s ears.

There is a momentary silence, long enough for regrets to start creeping into Marius’ mind, before, “My apologies.”

“Your--” Marius’ voice determinedly does not crack-- “Apologies?”

“Yes.” And Courfeyrac does look contrite, strangely enough. “I should know better than to judge people by outward appearance.”

This is definitely not the reaction Marius was expecting. “You don’t.” He swallows. “You don’t think I’m abnormal.”

“We are none of us normal.” Courfeyrac makes a grand gesture, nearly tipping over his chair. “Where, I ask you, is the fun in normal? But to answer your question--” something in Courfeyrac’s demeanor softens-- “I know many others like you. It’s not an unnatural way of being.”

“I,” Marius starts. He finds himself unable to continue.

Courfeyrac responds with a gentle smile, smaller than before but no less real. “It just occurred to me,” he says, “That I never learned your name. An issue that I hope you will soon remedy for me.”

Marius looks back at his bag. The letters on it are neither faded nor obscured, and positioned as they are, there’s no way Courfeyrac hasn’t seen them. He looks at Courfeyrac, confused, for a second before he understands. “Marius,” he says; the name feels as right as it had the first time Marius had read it, scrawled at the end of his father’s last letter, an almost unnoticed part of the signature. As long as he carries the name, Marius had realized, what seems now to be so many months ago, he will keep a part of his father with him. 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Marius.” There is not a trace of mockery in Courfeyrac’s voice, only a certain warm quality that lights Marius from the inside.

“Likewise.” Marius feels a smile pull at the edges of his mouth, threatening to eclipse his face.

“Now.” Courfeyrac’s expression dissolves into something that could be called serious if one did not pay too much attention to the twitching of his lips. “I believe I have a solution to your current living situation. Or, should I say, your current lack of one.”

“And this would be?” Marius asks, trying not to let too much hope bleed into his voice.

“Monsieur,” Courfeyrac says. And if ever a beginning could be pinpointed to a single moment, it would be now, here. “Come home with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @saucy-boy


End file.
